Pond Life Poem by paul shannon

spuds

when the potatoes
were being worried by the dogs
i was at my laziest
come away you pointers
stop fluttering
round them spuds
i commanded
since them dogs
were not the cleanest dogs
rat gnawed and stuck
with ancient feathered droppings and
too old for horn and corn.


Suspicion

Suspicion naturally falls,
attracting crowds
most of whom stare and point.
It falls in a perfect parabola.


a round straight line with a hole in it

who first gave Galileo the idea to make the earth go round the sun?
and why during lent
and living on a diet of worms
did the experienced monks
bring all that steam into the country?

hand on heart
i can’t vouch for the
mechanism of balance
and countless other categories
because it must not be talked about.

so when I advanced the view that imagination
ought to have some reference to reality,
she boiled over and
spat on the grass, a sort of dew.


Pond life

Using a pipette
Place a dropp of pond

At the agreed angle
Just above the aperture.

As light passes through,
A clearer image emerges.

Amazing unicellular
Organisms can be seen.

A teeming population,
Burdensome to the pond,

Their wants unquenchable,
An unsustainable rabble.